


Get a Room

by paperbackwriterfromnowhere



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:22:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9415895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperbackwriterfromnowhere/pseuds/paperbackwriterfromnowhere
Summary: Ringo and George mock Paul and John and end up getting a room, too (for the first time).





	

Brian’s had enough of Paul and John, yelling at them to just go get a bloody room. The amount of alcohol each Beatle has ingested tonight is dangerous, but it’s still nothing like Hamburg ever was. George elbows Ringo and chuckles softly to himself as Brian’s head ends up in his hands.

“Oh, Paul!” Ringo says, flinging himself against George, hands on his chest.

“Oh! John! My handsome Johnny!” George mocks, clinging to Ringo.

Brian peeks through his fingers for a brief moment before returning his face to his hands, head shaking.

“Paul, oh my dearest Princess, give us a kiss!” Ringo laughs, hardly aware that he’s so close to George before George laughs and presses their lips together, lost in the moment and uninhibited by the alcohol in his veins.

Ringo blushes, then George does, too, and it’s Brian letting out a groan of despair once again. “Why don’t you two follow Lennon and McCartney, then?” he spits out, the alcohol in his own system just as exorbitant as theirs as he stumbles off to find a couch to pass out on.

George gives Ringo a shy little smile, even though moments before he was ready to push the older man up against the wall and have his way with him.

“That wasn’t bad, y’know?” Ringo mumbles. “The uh… well, the… you know... with the lips and us and… stuff…”

George snickers, his face bright red now and nods. “It was alright,” he teases, the smile on his face showing it was more than alright, in fact.

“We _could_ go to a room for a bit… if you wanted to, obviously.” Ringo’s breath hitches at his own suggestion and he nervously waits for George’s answer. It’s really been a long time coming, this… whatever _this_ is between them. It’s certainly more than friendship, but it’s hard to put a label on it. 

George takes a drag of his cigarette and laughs nervously, though he nods. “Yeah… I think I’d like that.”

There’s no more words spoken as Ringo leads the way up the stairs of this house they’re in (he’s already forgotten which famous person it belongs to) and they find a room that’s unoccupied, Ringo pushing the door open and ushering George in before he follows, turning and locking it behind him. 

George’s hands fiddle nervously with the hem of his jacket and he looks at Ringo for some direction. Ringo’s never done this with a man before, but he’s heard John and Paul talking, he’s even asked Paul for more information than he’s overheard in John’s ridiculously crass ways. Ringo’s learned a lot over the past few weeks and he feels like he’s ready to put some of this knowledge into action-- as long as George is ready, of course.

He steps towards the taller man and grabs his tie, pulling him close for a kiss. It’s slow and it’s full of passion, and the way George’s lips feel against his… _fuck_. It’s an almost spiritual experience. Ringo’s hand cups George’s cheek and the younger man’s arms slip around Ringo’s waist, pulling him close.

“I’ve wanted t’do that for years,” the guitarist breathes against the other’s lips. 

“Me too,” Ringo admits. “There’s a lot o’ stuff I wanna do t’ya, Georgie… if you wanna…”

George nods, pressing their lips together again, humming softly into the kiss. George isn’t exactly sure what to do, but it feels good when their bodies are pressed against one another’s so tightly, when Ringo moans into George’s mouth. It’s incredibly addicting for both of them.

“Ritchie…” George whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Touch me?” he asks in a voice so soft and quiet it’s almost inaudible.

Ringo nods and immediately agrees, pulling George’s shirt free from his trousers sloppily, fingers finally popping open the button and pulling down the zipper. He barely gets it all the way down before his hand is diving into the younger’s underwear, thick fingers wrapping around the other’s cock and stroking him slowly with a soft moan.

George’s head tilts back, moaning breathlessly. It’s so different from a woman’s touch-- it’s so rough and dominating and _fuck_ he needs so much more. Thin fingers pull at Ringo’s pants, fighting with the button for a moment before he gets them pushed down just past the drummer’s hips. He takes his cock in his hand and he glances down in between them to the most beautiful sight. He’s imagined this, but seeing it in the flesh has him weak in the knees. Ringo’s cock is bigger than he expected, but he doesn’t care. He wants to taste it the way girls want to taste him, he wants to feel it inside of him, and he doesn’t know how to express this in words without bursting into laughter. He never expected this-- to want a man so badly-- but God, he wants Ringo so much he can feel it all the way down to the tips of his toes.

His gaze meets the older man’s and they both smile, both a bit nervous, and they lock lips again briefly before pulling away enough to let their breaths linger against each other’s lips (the sensation driving them both completely mad). Ringo understands that George is clueless, that he’s completely relying on him to guide him through this, and Ringo nods a bit. 

“On the bed wi’ ya,” he smirks, pushing a hand gently on George’s chest. “Get yer clothes off, too.”

As they both disrobe, George nearly falls over, laughing as his foot gets stuck in his pant leg and he lands on the bed. Ringo’s laughing, too, as he gets the rest of his clothes off and crawls over George lying there. He presses tiny kisses to George’s chest, the younger’s hands sliding into Ringo’s hair gently. 

“I ‘ave no idea what to do… I just know that I want you,” George admits in a whisper.

“I want you, too, Georgie,” he breathes, lips trailing over his neck, nipping gently, letting his tongue soothe over it.

George’s eyes roll back in his head with pleasure, teeth scraping over his bottom lip. His back arches up, body _screaming_ for more contact with Ringo’s. The feel of their skin against one another is exhilarating for both of them, and there’s more grunts and moans to follow. Everything about this is gentle and soft, yet filled with passion and unspoken desires.

Ringo kisses a trail down George’s chest, letting his tongue flick over each nipple with a grin as bright blue eyes look up at him. There’s pleasure buzzing through each of them so powerfully, it’s almost palpable in the air between them. George pulls his lover back up for more kisses, the sound of their lips and tongues moving together filling the room in a way that seems so loud, they’re both sure the entire house can hear. It seems even more obvious when Ringo slips two fingers into George’s mouth. The younger lets his tongue explore those fingers and he wonders how similar this is to Ringo’s cock, moaning around them, tongue sweeping and circling as he bobs his head along them. The drummer is pleasantly surprised by how natural this seems for George and he briefly wonders if the guitarist has done this before.

Ringo doesn’t speak, but George knows what’s coming next. One saliva slicked finger gently circles around George’s arsehole before gently pushing in and Ringo urges him to relax a bit more, pressing gently kisses against the younger man’s jawline that he’s become so fond of. George listens, his hand finding and gently grasping Ringo’s cock once more and stroking it to a fully hardened state as Ringo works his finger in more and more, adding the second one when he’s ready. His finger curl and scissor, smooth and gently, both of them moaning at this. Ringo’s never been more impatient to get inside of anyone, but he’s also never been more determined to give someone the fuck of their lifetime. He’s going to take care of George in every possible way.

It’s not too terribly long before Ringo’s got George nice and opened up for him, and he kisses him slowly, withdrawing his fingers. The guitarist whimpers at the lack of Ringo filling him and shivers with a smile. “Now what?” George whispers.

“Wanna try suckin’ me cock for a bit? Get it nice and wet like ya did with me fingers?”

George’s already flushed face turns a deeper shade of red and he nods, licking his kiss swollen lips.

“Okay, good… just like with me fingers, Georgie, okay?”

He nods and bites his lip as Ringo repositions himself to make it easier for George. He licks the tip curiously, gasping the slightest bit at how soft the skin feels. He isn’t sure what he’d expected, but he likes it. He takes the tip in, slowly working more and more in until he can’t possibly get anymore in, at which point, he takes to licking it from base to tip, drooling and spitting, getting more and more into it as he goes on. He almost forgets that Ringo’s about to fuck him, until the other is pulling away, of course. Another whimper leaves George’s lips and Ringo tuts him, tapping George’s lips with a finger. 

“Tell me if it hurts, okay? And if ya wanna stop. I mean it.” 

George nods again and Ringo presses the tip in, drawing a moan from George louder than any so far. He pushes in a bit more and George’s face scrunches up a little. Ringo’s hand cups his face again, thumb brushing over his cheek and he shushes him softly. “You okay?”

The younger man nods, this slow going pace set to get Ringo all the way in until finally, he is. George is reminding himself to relax and breathe and Ringo is trying to hold himself together. It’s tight and George looks _so good_ like this, underneath him, his cock buried to the hilt in him… fuck… **fuck**.

A few moments later and George is nodding, urging him to move, and so he does. He starts out nice and easy, hips rolling into his new lover and George relaxing more and more until his squirming underneath Ringo, lips locked in a passionate kiss that’s all teeth and tongues and a battle for control. George is getting louder and louder, each time sending a surge of pleasure through Ringo that he isn’t prepared to deal with. Ringo wraps a hand around George’s cock, stroking him to the quick rhythm that he’s now fucking into him with and he knows he cannot possibly last long. George is a mess of whines and moans, back arching him into Ringo’s touch and feeling so on the edge the entire time, he feels if Ringo were to breathe on him, he might explode. 

“‘M close, Ritchie,” he whines out.

“Me, too, baby,” Ringo answers.

The word _baby_ is what pushes George over the edge, moaning out _Ritchie_ over and over as the older man strokes him through it. The moment he’s done is when Ringo explodes inside of George, crying out his name, hoping everyone in the house that heard it is too fucked up to recall it, but honestly, not caring.

Ringo collapses next to George after carefully pulling out of him and George instinctively finds himself curled up against Ringo, his head on the other’s chest, fingers drawing lazy shapes there. They don’t say a word, instead, they drift off to sleep, the orgasm and the alcohol too much. 

They’ll address this tomorrow-- maybe. 

Tonight they’ll have the most peaceful sleep they’ve had in awhile.


End file.
